


The Things We Leave Behind

by prairiecrow



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:18:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiecrow/pseuds/prairiecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian ponders the nature of immortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Set post-"The Wire" and pre-"The Search".

Julian's mother, Amsha Bashir, had been fond of a particular quotation by the old Earth author Ray Bradbury, to the point that Julian himself had memorized it by the time he was twelve years old:

 _“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there. It doesn’t matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that’s like you after you take your hands away. The difference between the man who just cuts lawns and a real gardener is in the touching, he said. The lawn-cutter might just as well not have been there at all; the gardener will be there a lifetime.”_

Even as an adult he still recalled it from time to time, particularly after a hard day in the Infirmary when the work of his own hands had made the difference between death and life for some fortunate patient. And he took satisfaction in knowing that if he were to fall in the line of duty tomorrow he would have left behind something worthwhile, something that would be remembered, something that would contain part of the essence of who he was. When his body ceased to function the imprint of his spirit on the universe would endure, which was as close to immortality as any Human could reasonably get.

Seeing people walk down the Promenade in garments that embodied a certain colorful and playful style, Julian recognized the essence of his friend Garak and smiled at the notion that a Cardassian, a member of a race remembered on Bajor primarily for their cruelty and brutality, had crafted such lovely clothes to adorn the bodies of people his own kind viewed with so much animus. That hostility and resentment never seemed to enter Garak's world, where graceful line and subtle texture were the ultimate good and the smiles of his happy customers were the primary goal. Garak's imprint on the universe around him was much easier to see than Julian's, if less ultimately significant.

Sometimes, however, Julian had the disquieting feeling that most of what Garak had really done in his life, like the hidden seams in an elaborate dress, were things that had been worked out of view: secrets uncovered, plans sabotaged, wounds inflicted in darkness, lives extinguished as efficiently as another man might snuff out a candle's flame. In that sense he was closer to Julian than he would ever willingly reveal, one for whom life and death were the currency of his daily dealings. 

But for the most part Julian did not think in those terms. He basked in Garak's charming smile across a Replimat table and took solace in the beauty of a well-turned sleeve or an elegant neckline, and did not concern himself with whatever the past might hold. When he looked into the spy's bright intelligent eyes and saw how they warmed to the sound of shared laughter, he found that the present was sufficient unto itself. Mr. Bradbury's sentiments aside, he fancied that his mother would have approved.

THE END


End file.
